


The Price We Pay

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-07 11:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10359636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: Tiny ones for CotG and FiaDDaniel is hurting





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

The Price We Pay

##  The Price We Pay

##### Written by Lin   
Comments? Forward them to us at [YumaFanFic@aol.com](mailto:YumaFanFic@aol.com)

  * SPOILERS: Tiny ones for CotG and FiaD 
  * Daniel is hurting 
  * PG [Hc] [1st] 



* * *

"Daniel, can you hear me?" A familiar voice breaks through the throbbing fog in my head. A woman's voice. Sha'uri? No, her voice was soft, melodic, this voice is stern, commanding - Janet? "Open your eyes and look at me, Daniel."

Okay, okay. I manage to crack my eyes open a smidgen. The light that blares in is enough to splatter my brains against the back of my skull.

No, I don't think this is a good idea. Better off with my eyes shut, only now the throbbing has turned into a thundering. What is that ringing in my ears?

"Turn the lights off. There. Daniel, open your eyes. I need to see that you're awake."

That compelling voice is back. I must be in the infirmary. Moving my hand a little tells me that I am lying on a bed, a sheet under my palm. My hand hurts. Hell, all of me hurts. What happened? The last thing I remember was being dragged towards the edge of a cliff by a bunch of disgruntled priests who weren't too happy with our assertion that their god was a parasite infesting an innocent host body. 

"Daniel." Another voice, deeper, gruffer, and very, very familiar carries a question as well as a demand. I guess I ought to try opening my eyes again. 

"It's good to see you," Dr. Janet Fraiser smiles down at me. Jack is standing behind her. He isn't smiling. A blonde head bobs in the background. Sam is here too. I bet Teal'c is in the room somewhere as well. It hurts too much to look around for him. If they are standing there looking down at me, it could only mean they weren't injured. That's good.

"Wha . . ." I can't get the word out. My throat is parched. It hurts to move my lips.

"Don't try to talk. You're back at the SGC. Do you understand me?" I try to nod and my skull threatens to shatter. "I know you're in pain and I'm going to give you something for it. I need to do a few tests while you're awake, okay? We'll get this over with as fast as possible." I grit my teeth through the inevitable until, at last, she is satisfied. She injects something into my IV line.

I feel the cold burn of the painkiller moving up my arm. As it creeps through my battered body, my mind begins to drift into the black fog.

"He's going to recover. It will take a while, but he'll be okay. Right now, he needs to rest. There's no point in you staying." I hear Janet tell the others from the other side of the fog. Her voice is hollow, distant. The roaring in my ears is drowning her out. 

I can feel the steady march of the medication as it makes its way through my veins. The pain is pushed back as the blackness sucks me down.

In just a moment, there will be no more pain. No more pain. . .no pain.

Pain has never been a stranger at my door. Hell, not only does he have a spare key, but he keeps a toothbrush stashed in my bathroom. Our acquaintance started early with the usual skinned knees, and scraped elbows of childhood. We came to know each other on a first name basis when a falling cover stone stole my parents from me. In borrowed homes of paid families, I learned quickly to keep my pain to myself because no one was interested. Their lives were too full, too busy to deal with the hurting of a displaced boy. An unfriendly shove, the sting of an insult, or a book dashed to the ground was quickly forgotten, shoved aside. Wouldn't do to bother anyone with the trivialities of my growing up. 

Pain became my companion into adulthood. The joy of discovery was eclipsed by the slamming of doors. Heckles and scoffs were more common than praise and esteem. But the sad shaking of heads, and the scorn of my peers was nothing compared to the stab to the heart as my friends turned their backs on my ideas and me. No one wanted to know what I knew. No one cared enough to listen. Until Catherine . . . 

My life shifted after that, changing everything else but the familiarity with pain. The thrill of adventure, the exhalation of discovery was tempered with the impact of a fist, of the scraping of wind swept sand against exposed flesh, of the burning of a staff weapon blast to my chest. I looked up into beautiful, shy eyes and knew the joy of love. Still, pain kept pace. That love was ripped from me, stolen while my back was turned. I made a promise to save her that I couldn't keep. Another pain forever branded into my soul. 

I had to learn to live again. I had to find a new path, a new purpose. It wasn't easy letting go of the hopes and dreams that had fueled me for so long. There were times when I sat in the dark wondering why I should keep trying, what was worth the effort. I'd watch the clock count down the hours until sunrise, the oppressive weight of the new day becoming heavier as each minute ticked by. To keep myself too busy to dwell on what was missing in my life, I threw myself into my work. 

The exhilaration of knowing that my theories were true, that I was right, was tarnished by the need to keep it secret. To know and never be able to share was a burden that ate away at me. The quest for new, more deadly technology threw a pall over the excitement of encountering living history. Each new discover was marred by conflict or misunderstanding.

How many times can you offer your hand in peace only to pull it back in pieces before you quit, before the pain of trying is too much? How many times will defeat crush all hope of victory before you concede?

I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting, of feeling helpless against the pain.

I'm tired of trying. I've searched for the meaning of life for as long as I can remember. Maybe I've already found it, but was too afraid to admit it to myself. Maybe the most fundamental truth is that pain is the price we pay for living. All else is delusions and useless dreams. 

Nothing we do makes any real difference. We strive, struggle, fight, and win, only to lose it all. Where is the proof that we can make things better? It is all a lie, a fairy tale we use to console ourselves when the darkness threatens. What is the point in waking up? 

Maybe it's time to call it quits.

"You should get some rest yourself, Colonel," Janet's voice drifts through the darkness from a long way away.

"I'm staying, Doc," Jack's muffled voice answers.

"He'll be sedated most of the day, sir. He won't know you're here."

"It doesn't matter. I don't want him to wake up and find himself alone."

"All right, then I'll leave you to it. Call me if you need me."

"Looks like it's just you and me now, Daniel," Jack's voice rumbles in my ear, louder than before, along with the rustle of paper. "Don't want you to get bored while you're laid up, so why don't I read you the sports section of the newspaper. Here we go, listen to this. Last night the Black Hawks met the challenge . . . ."

Echoes of Jack's voice fade into the dark as I succumb to the effects of the medication. His words lose all meaning. Only the reverberation of his voice remains as the darkness washes me away, flooding through me, pushing aside conscious thoughts, drowning me in a nothingness so vast I'd be completely lost if it weren't for the resonance of Jack's voice anchoring me. The pain is gone for the moment, though not forgotten. It will be back. I have no doubt. The pain of broken bones mending, of broken promises forgiven, of a broken life slowly being rebuilt. Pain may be part of the price tag to so much in life, but friends make paying it easier to bear. The darkness is overwhelming, but as long as I can still hear the rumble that tells me my friend is there, with me, then maybe I can get through it one more time. 

**The End**

  


* * *

  


> Feedback always welcome

* * *

> September 10, 2001  
> © The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,   
> Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd.   
> Partnership.  
> This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment.   
> All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
> are the sole property of the author.   
> 

* * *

  



End file.
